Perception
by Incanto
Summary: The question of Hobbes's existence becomes an X-File...
1. Thesis

Perception

Say this takes place after 'Tooms'

'Middle School' Middle School

Cleveland, Ohio

"Is your name Thomas Chestnut?" Nod. "And what is this about teasing?" Shrug. "Answer me, young man." With a reluctant sigh, the student began. "I said Calvin was an underdeveloped Neanderthal throwback. I mean, come on…that kid's in first grade and he still carries his stuffed toy around with him." Pause. "Mr. Chestnut, for one who claims to be so very intelligent surely you must know that some children develop at different rates. Calvin may not be emotionally ready to abandon his toy yet." The principal explained. "It's more than that, sir…he thinks the thing's real for crying out loud." The principal shrugged. "We all have different perceptions of reality, Mr. Chestnut. Calvin's may be different from yours." Pause. "Are you saying you believe him?" The stunned Tommy almost shouted. "I'm not saying it either way." With a look of utter disbelief on his face, Tommy tore out the office, slamming the door behind him. The principal had gone insane. The whole world had gone insane. He stormed down the hall.

Cue creepy music. Blair witch camera technique. 

Maybe the old man could entertain Calvin's fantasy but he couldn't. There was no way that thing was real. I mean, look at it. It was just an ordinary stuffed Tiger. Nothing more. Hmm… He read somewhere it wasn't healthy to indulge these fantasies. It would help Calvin to show him the truth. But how?

Zoom in. Music.

That's it. He would rip the thing apart and when Calvin saw what was really inside it, cotton stuffing, he wouldn't be able to claim the thing was real anymore. It wasn't cruel- He was only trying to help. He turned around, resolute. Stopped. Screamed.

Cue X-Files introduction. The words 'the truth is out there' have been replaced with 'I want to believe'.

Basement, J. Edgar Hoover Building

Washington D.C

"It seems simple enough to me. Look, I can explain everything. The Cleveland zoo lost a tiger a few years back. It's been living in the woods, eating rabbits, deer, whatever tigers eat. Commercial expansion forced it into the open, it started preying on humans."

"Really? I mean you think it's that simple?"

"Absolutely."

Pause. "I'll take the case, but I suspect nothing remotely paranormal." He said as if it were routine. "You might feel differently after reading the report." Skinner noted, leaving hastily. A silence settled in the dusty office, falling like a sheet over its occupant, who sat motionless in his chair. "I'm sure I will." He replied to the faceless walls. Slowly, almost reluctantly he turned and picked up the manila folder. Of course there was more too this. But he wasn't about to let Skinner know that. A boy 'messily devoured in the halls of a middle school in circumstances exactly resembling a tiger attack. So many possibilities came to mind. A shapeshifter, a 'weretiger'. A mutant, possibly a hybrid. A tiger transported somehow into the school, possibly through alien technology, possibly through witchcraft. The possibilities were endless. There was one detail that seemed important. A student of that school, a one Calvin Monroe proudly attributed the incident to his stuffed tiger. Two instincts struggled for prevalence in his mind. The stronger won. Theory: The tiger might be the conduit for some powerful psychic force possessed by the boy. Maybe. Possibly. It was likely the answer would be a million times more unlikely than his theory.

Middle School basement

"All right, Calvin. This is a very simple test, similar to a polygraph. It measures brainwave activity. Just sit still for a few minutes and I'll be back." The six-year-old glared at him from under the brim of a cartoonishly bulbous helmet. "A likely story." He hissed through gritted teeth. "What do you want from me, Zarkon inquisitor?" Mulder paused for a minute. It might be best to play along. "The names of every U.S President. Comply or be terminated." Calvin paused, evidently unprepared for such a response. "Well, umm…there's…Washington…Adams…Lincoln…Carter…Adams…did I say that already?" He began nervously. Mulder gazed down at the chart spewing out of the machine. The results were exceptional but nothing really alarming. "Enough!" He thundered in his best 'authority' voice. "Recite the secret identities of Captain Napalm's league of justice!" The expression on the boy's face reversed immediately. It was confident, determined. He began spewing out information so fast that Mulder couldn't keep track of it. The machine convulsed, the reading shot up. Still not above recorded levels, although…given his age, it was nothing short of staggering. "Very good, Calvin." Mulder said suddenly. "You may go." Eyeing him suspiciously, unsure what to think, Calvin padded out. Mulder collapsed into his chair with a sigh. Something was very wrong here.

I'm too lazy to finish it, but I liked the concept. Anyway, my theory on Hobbes's reality-

He is, of course a real tiger, escaped, as I theorized, from the Cleveland zoo (even though, too my knowledge, there isn't one). Calvin, being an impressionable child saw no reason that Hobbes a) wasn't real and b) was dangerous. His parents, however, could never accept the fact that a bipedal talking tiger was in their house so their brains rationalized the experience by perceiving Hobbes as a stuffed Tiger. The same goes for everyone else, even the students whose minds have been influenced by their parents. Calvin is the only one open-minded enough to see Hobbes as he really is. Only in cases where rationalization is impossible (as with Tommy chestnut) do others see a real tiger there. I like to think this theory still preserves some of the strip's mystique.


	2. Antithesis

Perception

Cold air sunk, he was told in Science class, and it certainly felt like that today. The icy winter air settled around him like a warm blanket-the difference in the adjectives painfully clear. It induced an air of quite entropy that prevented one from acting and all he could do was wait in the infernal cold for the school bus to cart him off to the gulag. Worst of all, he could hardly voice these thoughts. Hobbes stood beside him, taking a very different view of the situation. It was easy to find the good in things with the thick pelt, Calvin noted peevishly. His breath misted the air, almost crystallizing on the delicate lines of his whiskers. "No comment?" Calvin shook his head. "You know, some guy from the government wanted to talk to me yesterday."

"Is that so? You think they finally found out about the noodle incident?"

"Hey! It wasn't _that_ bad and you know it."

"All right, what did he want to talk about?"

"You, mostly."

"Oh really. Why?"

"He just wanted to know things about you, the kind of food you eat, how big you are, you know. HE also gave me this weird test where he asked me a few questions."

"You think this had anything to do with Tommy?"

"Nah, no one liked him, anyway."

"True…but I've found that the laws of humanity rarely concur with the laws of nature."

"You have a point. But even if he was angry with you, he didn't show it. Also he seemed to really believe you existed, like Uncle Max…although I suspect he was just humoring me."

"Why, some people don't?"

"Well, you heard Tommy. He said you were 'stuffed'."

"Well, sometimes I am…like after meals, you know. Maybe that was it."

"No, he means like those animals you buy in stores-the cloth ones."

"Hmm…"

"I've some people will do anything to deny the truth."

Basement, J. Edgar Hoover Building

"Mulder, you've had some bizarre theories before, but this…"

"You say that every time. Listen, it's really very simple. What we have here is a kid whose imagination is so active he actually brings inanimate objects to life."

"Right."

"Listen I'm sorry you have to handle the Pfastner case by yourself but this is really important. I mean, think of the implications…"

"If you're right."

"I am. I'm certain."

The Monroe Household

"Hello, Mrs. Monroe? Could I speak to your son?" The woman who answered the door looked as though her entire life had been one never-ending calamity and just now it had abated. "Sure." She said cheerfully, and then her expression darkened. "What's he done this time?" Mulder shook his head hastily. "No, nothing like that. I just want to ask him a few questions." She looked slightly relieved and ushered him into the house. "Calvin?" She called. "There's someone here to see you?" A spiky head peered around the corner. "Oh, it's you. What do you want this time?" His voice contained no malice or annoyance, only curiosity. It was something lost with age. The same question voiced by one of his wretched co-workers would have sounded like a threat. "I want to see Hobbes." He said. "Naturally, I felt the need to forward the request through you." Calvin nodded. "This way. Hey HOBBES! Visitor!" At the top of the stairs a battered, stitched plush tiger leaned against the doorframe. There was no way he could have planned this. "Listen, Calvin…" He began awkwardly. "I believe you when you say Hobbes is a real tiger, but…the fact is, when I look at him, I only see a stuffed toy." To his surprise, Calvin nodded. "I suspected as much. Yes, I'm beginning to realize that now. The world sees everything wrong, peace entireties are interpreted as declarations of war, cries of mercy and interpreted as threats, the moans of the oppressed are heard as cries of joy and the frying of the ozone layer is unheard altogether. What a world. Of course, I wouldn't expect them to see Hobbes for what he really is." Stunned by the philosophical outburst, Mulder sat down. "The fact is, you're just not ready to see him. You couldn't if you wanted too." He shrugged. "Listen Calvin…all my life, I've prided myself in seeing truth where others see fiction. I always said t myself, 'I want to believe'. But…" Calvin nodded. "Hmm…so the desire is there. But as much as you tell yourself that, you're still not ready." He pondered the issue. On one hand, he wanted to help him. On the other, here was an opportunity to make him look like a total buffoon. Then he realized he could do both. "Repeat after me-I want to believe."

"I want to believe."

"Louder."

"I want to believe!"

"Once more, with feeling."

"I WANT TO BELIEVE, DAMN IT!"

He opened his eyes, closed a second before in rapt concentration. No matter how much he had expected to see what he now perceived, he was still unprepared. "H-Hobbes? My name is Fox Mulder, FBI." Hobbes extended a paw. "Charmed."

Later

"All right, I was wrong, so sue me."

"I thought so."

"No, you don't understand…there was something there that even I couldn't accept, that I'm still not sure I do?"

"Like what?"

"It's hard to explain. Maybe you should see it yourself."


	3. Synthesis

Perception

If the same situation were visited on any other family, it would be the subject of alarm. The mother might be found by the phone, whitened knuckles drumming on the counter, repeatedly calling the police. The father might be found pacing frantically through the halls, brow knitted with concern, stopping periodically to peer out of the windows for some sign of the object of their concern. For the Monroe family, it had attained an almost traditional quality. "Where's Calvin?" The mother asked conversationally.

"Not in his room." Concluded the father with a shrug. 

"Dinner's getting cold." The mother observed.

"Maybe that's his intention." Said the father, with a wry grin.

"Well, he's going to eat it anyway." The mother resolved, crossing her arms. The next ten minutes passed in silence. Then, the realization gradually dawned: if the boy was nowhere to be found, he was most likely getting into trouble.

"I'll call the police." The mother said, still conversational. The father nodded calmly, finished a mouthful of microwaved lasagna, and stood.

"Well, with any luck, he isn't committing any _major _felonies." His father joked, though neither laughed. He followed his wife out of the room.

"You realize this is a violation of federal law." Mulder repeated. The statement seemed to have no effect on the six-year-old stowaway in the back seat of his car, who listened politely, though his expression suggested he was becoming bored with the topic.

"I'm sure." Calvin said indulgently, in the same tone his parents might have used to accept his claims of superpowers. "But the fact remains…I know where you're going. And I know what you want to do. And I'm not going to let you."

"It isn't wise to threaten a federal agent, you know. Now, let's get you back to your parents…" He was about to turn back onto the road, when Calvin, who had managed to roll down his window, leaned out.

"HELP! I'm being abducted! Somebody call the Police, oh, help…" He screamed at a passing car. Wincing, Mulder twisted around in his seat and grabbed him by the collar. The driver of the other car, a stiff-necked businessman in his late fifties, shot Mulder a horrified glance before speeding off.

"If you don't quite down _immediately_, I really _will _call the police." Mulder threatened. Calvin looked smug. "You might go to prison, you know. Threatening a federal officer, umm…slander, libel…" True or not, he assumed the boy wouldn't be able to tell. "And just how did you get into my car in the first place?" 

"I've had practice." Calvin said evasively. "Listen, we need to talk."

"All right." Mulder said resignedly. "I suppose I owe you that much. I assume this is about…"

"Yes." The boy nodded decisively. On the seat beside him, Mulder could make out a battered, plush tiger. He no longer saw it as anything else, but he could sense its reality, its presence in the car, the air it displaced. He thought he could smell the pungent odor of its breath; it was redolent of canned tuna. "You can't tell anyone." The boy stated. He spoke more soberly than before, commandingly. His gaze was level.

"About…?" Mulder wondered, not for the first time, if this was all a dream…or some trance brought on by some hallucinogenic substance.

"Right. I know you want too, but…" He turned to the tiger, Hobbes, as he called it, and paused a moment. As if listening. "Just…think what might happen, okay? If the whole world knew about Hobbes. What do you think would happen?"

"I imagine the entire world would come to see him the way you do…the way I hope that I do…and we could all learn to be a little more perceptive." 

"Is that really what you think?" Calvin's voice was saturated with scorn. You adults can be so DENSE. It's hard to imagine that you run the world…" He paused, staring up at the ceiling. "Do you really think people could see Hobbes for what he is? I'm surprised _you_ could, I mean…when I first met Hobbes, I couldn't imagine that anyone wouldn't, you know, be able to see him. Now…I don't know what would happen. None of us do. But maybe it's better to wait. The truth is, if people want to believe, then they will. If they don't, then nothing can change their mind."

"Calvin, what I intend to do is tell my partner. Her name is Dana Scully. She's a very intelligent, responsible person, even if she isn't as quick to believe…"

"Right, you tell her and she tells someone _she _thinks she can trust and pretty soon everyone knows. That's how things work, isn't it?" There was a long silence. A car passed with a mournful hiss. Mulder sighed.

"I've looked all my life for something like this. I…" He began, mashing the flesh of his face with his palm.

"Can you keep a secret?" Calvin demanded, more intent than ever.

"I can't believe I'm having this conversation."

"Neither can I. Now promise me."

"I…"

"Please?" 

It was some ten minutes later. Man and boy shook hands, stiffly, both preoccupied. "Do you need a ride?" Mulder asked.

"I've arranged for transportation." Calvin said, indicating the plush tiger leaning against him. Though, to him, it was only that, Mulder could have sworn he heard it speak. It was a voice no louder than a whisper, as fleeting and insubstantial as the breeze, but unmistakable.

"Tigers are _hunters_, not pack animals. We hitch a ride." The plush toy insisted. Mulder smiled weakly. 

"It's…been nice meeting you." Calvin said sincerely, returning the gesture.

"Same here, I think." Mulder replied. They stood there a moment, regarding each other. Mulder took a deep, rattling breath, climbed into his car, slammed the door shut and turned the key. And he left them there, by the side of the road. Somehow, he trusted they would get home safely. A boy with a tiger has little to worry about. In his rear view mirror, he thought he caught a glimpse of orange fur streaked with black, and a pair of luminous, feline eyes in the dark. But maybe it was just his imagination.

"Mulder, you have no idea the pains I've taken to meet you here tonight…" She began. 

"And I'm sorry. I really am, Scully. You don't know how much. But like I said, it was a hoax, just some yokel leaving Bigfoot tracks in the mud with a plaster cast. You know how easily I'm taken in…" He grinned sheepishly.

"I don't believe you." She said flatly. "After this long, I'd expect you to give me that much credit."

"Then will you believe me when I say I can't tell you?" He said, more serious than she had ever remembered him. 

"Yes." She said at length.

"Listen, I'm really sorry, it's just…" 

"No." She cut him off. "It's all right. It's all right." And they drove on in silence.

Note: Wow. I never thought I'd write a second chapter for this, let alone a third. I'm actually pretty pleased with the way it turned out, which is a first. But there will definitely not be any kind of sequel. I think.


End file.
